


Foundations

by zombified_queer



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Domestic, Eggs, Hatchlings, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Post-Canon Cardassia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: Slowly, together, with the right supports, Skrain and Elim build a proper Cardassian home.





	Foundations

Dukat hates terribly to be away from his bond-mate and regrets that a political career takes him into the city for days on end. Seeing their small home, Dukat smiles, opening the door.

It's dark. It's quiet. Dukat tenses, worrying.

"Elim?"

Something moves in the reading room and Dukat moves slow, cautious. He opens the door and sighs.

Garak's curled up in the salvaged and reupholstered armchair, clutching a bundle to his chest. He doesn't meet Dukat's eyes. "I didn't expect you home so soon."

"What've you got, Elim?"

But rather than show him, Garak adjusts the bundle, wrapping it up tighter. He reminds Dukat of those desert arachnids, securing prey with five legs bearing silk strands, looming over their prey on the other five.

Dukat crosses the room, standing over Garak, trying to figure out what Garak's holding. Scenting the air, Dukat's worry and annoyance dissolve, opting to smile instead. He places a gentle hand on Elim's shoulder, the ex-tailor pulling away from Dukat's touch. "Elim, why didn't you tell me?"

"You were busy," Garak answers. The blankets loosen, the shell of the egg visible, sandy brown against the grey of the blanket. 

"Let's get a proper nest," Dukat murmurs, carding fingers through Garak's hair. "You want them to hatch, don't you?"

Garak doesn't shy from the affection this time, simply closing his eyes and letting himself be petted, Dukat scratching the back of Elim's neck, making him purr.

"You're exhausted, too," Dukat notes. "Poor thing. Let me—"

"No." Garak glares up at Dukat. 

"Alright," Dukat says. "Then let's get a proper nest for them."

He offers a hand to Garak, the ex-spy hesitating before adjusting his hold on the egg and taking Dukat's hand. Dukat has to support his bond-mate, one arm around his waist. 

"Poor thing," Dukat says, helping Garak to their bed. "You must be starved and exhausted. Didn't Kelas come check up on you?"

"I told him to leave me alone," Garak admits.

Dukat helps Garak into bed, the ex-spy clinging to the egg wrapped in the blanket. Smiling fondly at is bond-mate, Dukat kisses the corner of Garak's mouth before arranging their bedding to form a more proper nest for the egg. 

Garak makes a low hiss when Dukat reaches for the egg opting to tuck it in himself. Dukat simply smiles, scratching those sensitive spots and making Garak purr again.

"I'll make dinner," Dukat assures his bond-mate. 

"I appreciate it," Garak says, voice slurring in his exhaustion.

"You just rest," Dukat says. "You've done so good for our hatchling already."

Garak eyes his bond-mate warily before letting himself rest, falling into a deep sleep, curled around the nest, warming their egg.

* * *

Dukat makes sure to explain the situation to his political associates. They understand and give him time to spend with his bond-mate and their egg. 

Garak sleeps for a whole day, though it's a light doze, protecting the egg whenever Dukat comes close to their nest. In fairness, Dukat avoids getting too close to the nest except to bring Garak home cooked meals. Dukat, more often than not, feeds his mate personally, making sure Garak's cared for.

"Elim?"

"Hmm?" 

"You intend to keep them?"

"Of course." Garak's almost offended by the implication. 

"You're attached." Dukat smiles. "Well, I want them too. It's our duty."

Garak places a hand over the shell, shielding their developing hatchling from Dukat.

"You should get cleaned up," Dukat murmurs. "I can warm the nest. I did it with my other children."

"How well-adjusted they turned out to be," Garak hisses.

Dukat doesn't tell his bond-mate his kids are dead, some from politics and the rest from the shelling. Instead, he scratches at that sensitive spot at the nape of Garak's neck, Garak purring. "Go get yourself showered off."

Garak sighs, seeing there's no arguing with Dukat. "If that egg cracks, I will personally skin you."

Dukat helps his bond-mate up, giving Garak an affectionate peck on the cheek in passing. He takes his place to warm the egg, smiling and stroking the smooth shell. 

"Little one," he purrs, knowing full well their hatchling won't be able to hear him. "We're looking forward to you."

He lays there quiet for a long time, gently stroking the smooth shell of the egg and keeping it warm. He plans a room for their child, knowing they'll probably take on Garak's want for privacy and space.

"Promise you won't be moody like your yadik," Dukat murmurs.

* * *

Elim sips his tea slowly, watching Dukat.

"Did you have names?" Dukat asks. Garak's more comfortable letting Dukat near the nest, less paranoid, though that might be because Elim's sleeping better, Dukat making sure he takes his sedatives. "We can't just call them hatchling all the time."

"Mila."

Dukat nods. "For a boy?"

"Corat."

"Cheeky." Dukat gets up, running fingers through Garak's hair, idly braiding it. "It would be a good name."

"And you?" Garak asks. "What names would you have picked?"

"Iliana for a daughter," Dukat says softly. "Corat for a son."

Garak hums, relaxing into Dukat's hands. Dukat reaches over, steadying Garak's hand holding the mug of tea. 

"Then you do want them."

"Of course," Dukat says softly. "I care for all my children."

"And yet I don't see them," Elim says. 

Their eyes meet. Dukat knows, in that tender moment, that Garak knows. Garak sets the mug of tea aside, getting up.

"Your turn to warm the egg," Garak says. "I'm going to read."

"Why not read to them?" Dukat suggests. "I like hearing you read."

"Spoiled." But Garak's voice is tired. 

"I'll warm the egg," Dukat relents. "But let me give you your sedative."

"I don't need it," Garak says. 

Dukat takes Garak's face in both hands, thumbs running along the lower edge of Garak's ocular ridge. "You do need it."

Garak doesn't meet Dukat's stare. "Just warm the egg. I'll be asleep in the reading room."

Dukat sighs. "No. Not until you've taken your sedative." 

He kisses Garak gently before going to get the hypo. There's still the same small glass vials, but Dukat can't find one that's not empty.

"Elim?" he calls.

"I know," Garak says. 

"I'll go see Kelas in the morning," Dukat assures him. "I worry about you, Elim."

Elim fixes Dukat with a stare that seems like he's staring through Dukat. Setting the hypo down, Dukat puts a hand on his bond-mate's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Dukat asks.

"Tired," Elim answers. 

And then he's gone, slinking off quietly and with that vacant stare. Dukat, frustration welling up in him, returns to their nest, warming the egg.

* * *

Dukat's impatient, staring at the door though he's warming their egg. Kelas and Elim have been holed up in the reading room for hours, neither raising their voice above a whisper. Stroking the shell of their egg idly, Dukat can't help but wonder. Is Elim okay? Is he sick? Does he need more than a sedative? Will it impact the way he treats their egg? 

Finally, the door opens and Kelas steps out, smiling at Dukat. "He needs a new medication, but Elim's healthy."

Dukat considers it. "What should I look for?"

"Just make sure he eats properly and rests," Kelas says. He pushes up his glasses. "I wish Elim would have told me sooner about the egg." He looks at the nest, the single sandy shell tucked in. "If you want, I know people who have incubators."

"I would appreciate it," Dukat admits. "Perhaps Elim can help with it."

Kelas nods, taking in the way Dukat keeps he nest warmed. "It would be best if you warmed it until then."

"Oh." Dukat adjusts the blankets around the egg. "He's that sort of sick."

"Not sick," Kelas says. "Not really."

"Does he want the hatchling, Kelas? Please don't lie to me."

Kelas sighs. "Truthfully? No."

Dukat hums, feeling his chest constrict. "And there's no one who would take it, hmm?"

Kelas shakes his head. "Not that I know of."

Dukat licks his lips. "Would it be ethical to . . .?"

"To smash it," Kelas finishes. "I wouldn't advise it. Elim knows how much you want the hatchling."

Dukat sighs. "I don't want it if it'll upset Elim."

"Elim's often upset," Kelas explains. "He's . . . seen things, done things. There's no easy way to make him happy."

"I wish there was," Dukat sighs, stroking the shell of the egg.

* * *

"Elim?"

Garak looks up from his reading. "Hmm?

"I've been thinking."

"A dangerous habit." The jab falls flat, apathetic.

Dukat adjusts one of the pillows, fussing with the nest. "Maybe you should be the one going into politics."

Garak blinks at him. "Why?"

"You're not exactly the family-oriented Cardassian," Dukat says. "I could stay at home with our hatchling."

Garak curls up into himself, like vines retracting from a drought. He stares at Dukat with those cold blue eyes, expression unreadable. 

"You'd do that?" 

"Of course," Dukat says. "I want you to be happy, Elim, and Kelas—"

"Kelas might be a doctor, but he's not the authority on my happiness," Garak hisses, eyes narrowed.  
"But I don't want you resenting our hatchling."

Garak continues glaring at Dukat. "I don't resent them."

"You regret them."

"No." It's a bad lie. Garak sets his reading aside. "I'm worried I might not be a good yadik."

"You already are," Dukat says. "You kept them warm and healthy when you were exhausted."

Garak doesn't say anything, doesn't look at Dukat. He does get up, wandering off to the reading room, where Garak's been spending every night.

* * *

With the incubator installed, the egg can be warmed without worry, though Dukat checks frequently on the egg, making sure the incubator is clean and continuing to keep the egg warmed. Without the nest taking up half the bed, Dukat insists on curling up with Garak, even if the latter doesn't sleep well.

Tonight, tucked into the thin sheets, Dukat kisses Garak's bared shoulder. 

"You're stressed," Dukat notes, his hand resting on Garak's hip. "Can I . . .?"

Garak hums. "I'd rather not have two hatchlings."

Dukat chuckles, kissing Garak's neck. "That's not what I had in mind."

He lays Garak back in bed, taking his time kissing and nipping at those sensitive ridges along Garak's neck. One hand slides under the waistband of Garak's pants, Dukat's fingers trace his bond-mate's chuva before dipping lower, tracing at the sensitive scaling of Garak's slit.

"Tease," Garak hisses. 

Dukat chuckles against Garak's throat. "But of course."

He goes slow, keeping track of how Garak squirms, groans, hisses. He's done this enough, but hearing Garak's little slip-ups, those forbidden sounds of enjoyment, Dukat is satisfied.

But Garak's not. 

Dukat pulls Garak's pants off. He gently nudges Garak's thighs apart, kissing up the inside of Garak's thigh until his mouth meets Garak's slit. Some gentle licks and kisses coax Elim to slowly evert. 

"You're terribly handsome," Dukat purrs, kissing the base of Garak's shaft. "Delightfully thick."

Garak scrunches up his nose. "You're still horrible at talking."

With a small chuckle, Dukat opens his mouth, servicing his bond-mate with gentle bobs of his head, tongue flicking against the base of Garak's shaft. Dukat's hands rest on Garak's thighs. He adjusts himself to trace the scaling of Garak's slit, gently pushing just two fingers into him. That makes Garak groan, unmuffled in the dark. 

He cums quieter, though, filling Dukat's mouth. Dukat swallows, kissing at Elim's shaft before letting him rest, cock retracting back into his slit. 

"Better?" Dukat asks, pulling his fingers out of Garak's slit, kissing those delicate scales again.

"Much," Garak admits.

* * *

Dukat turns over in bed, reaching over to pull Garak close, share warmth with his mate. But Garak's side of the bed is empty.

He thinks the worst: Elim having a bad night, pacing furiously and whispering to the ghosts, Elim holding the remains of a shattered egg, Elim covered in blood. He turns over, opening his eyes.

"Elim?"

Garak's standing in front of the incubator, arms folded over his chest and just staring at the egg. He doesn't say anything.

"Elim," Dukat says, getting out of bed. He only puts one hand around Garak's waist, not wanting to smother him. "You should be sleeping."

"Sometimes those medicines Kelas gave me don't work right," Garak says. He presses against Dukat, a good sign. 

Dukat kisses the top of Garak's head. "Just watching them?"

"Mhm."

Dukat rests his head on Garak's shoulder, watching their egg in the incubator. "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

Garak huffs, as if the question offends him. "I would hope, more than anything, they're healthy."  
Dukat hums, thinking it over. He won't say it, but he wants a daughter more than anything. He hopes it isn't too obvious to Garak.

"I thought about it."

"Thought about what?" Dukat asks, kissing Garak's shoulder.

"About going into politics," Garak says. "I'm no good at parenting."

"You could be," Dukat answers. "You've already protected them, nested with them. I'm sure the hatchling will adore you, Elim."

Garak doesn't seem convinced, but he does look a little more tired. Dukat lets go of Garak's waist to take his hand, guiding him back to bed and tucking his mate in before curling up next to him. Dukat stays up, watching Garak fight the call of sleep stubbornly until he closes his eyes. 

Dukat kisses Garak's temple before drifting off to sleep himself.

* * *

When the egg starts hatching, Dukat can't tear himself away from the incubator. He watches every little motion, the bubbles that come up from the cracks in the shell.   
Garak wanders over, Dukat pulling his bond-mate close and kissing him furiously. 

"Hatching already?" Garak muses.

"They'll be here before tomorrow," Dukat says, holding Garak close. 

"You can't expect me to stand here and watch all day. Someone's got to do the cooking and the cleaning."

"Of course." Dukat doesn't let go of Garak right away, an arm wrapped loosely around the ex-tailor's waist. "I'll let you know when they've hatched. I want them to get used to you, even if you won't be home all the time." Slowly, reluctantly, he lets Garak go. 

Garak looks at Dukat for a second. "You're getting sentimental."

"Can you forgive me?" Dukat teases.

"I suppose so."

Garak turns, leaving Dukat with the incubator to monitor. He does so dutifully, watching every crack in the shell, listening for those first chirps.

* * *

Dukat sips tea to keep him awake while Garak kills time with some mending that's needed doing. When that first chirp cuts through the silence, Garak calmly sets his mending aside. Dukat helps Garak up, grinning widely at his mate. While they watch, Dukat keeps an arm around Garak's waist, holding him close.

When their hatchling emerges from the egg, they're wide-eyed and scenting the air furiously. Recognizing their parents, the hatchling chirps, demanding to be held, to be fed, to be warmed.  
Dukat scoops the hatchling up while Garak fetches a blanket to swaddle them in. The hatchling resists Garak's absence, crying out in distress. 

"Here," Garak says, handing the blanket to Dukat. 

Dukat kisses Garak's cheek, taking the blanket. "I'll show you."

While Garak watches, Dukat shows him just how to swaddle their hatchling in the blanket. Smiling, he hands the hatchling off to Garak, who seems unsure about how to hold the chirping thing.

"Just be gentle," Dukat says, guiding Garak to sit down. "But hold them tight enough not to drop them."

"I won't drop my own hatchling," Garak hisses.

The hatchling seems to like Garak, since it copies his hissing at Dukat.

He can't help but laugh, scratching gently along the back of the hatchling's neck, settling them into purring.

"I'll get them something to eat," Dukat assures Garak.

He heads off to the kitchen, pausing for a moment to watch Garak and their hatchling. There's a fondness in Garak's face as their hatchling scents the air, recognizing him.

* * *

Mila, as she's named, absolutely adores Garak. She purrs when he holds her, always mimicking him. When he thinks Dukat's sleeping, Garak will read to the hatchling. It warms Dukat's heart.  
But after a month, Garak looks at Dukat.

"You're welcome to go," Dukat assures Garak. "You'll be a wonderful politician since you speak so much."

"You're sure you'll be alright with her?" Garak asks, looking down at the hatchling in his lap.

"Of course. I've handled hatchlings before."

"And you can do the cooking and the cleaning?"

Dukat takes one of Garak's hands, kissing the tailor's scarred knuckles. "I can handle the house. I promise I'll call if anything goes wrong."

Garak hesitates to hand the hatchling over. She's content to be passed between her parents as long as she can see Garak. When he gets up to leave, she begins craning er neck, scenting the air, watching him.

"He'll only be gone a little while," Dukat assures their hatchling, scratching the back of her neck.

"I'll be home soon," Garak tells her. 

When Garak leaves, Mila begins fussing, crying for Garak to come back. Dukat does his best to soothe her, scratching the back of her neck and plying her with snacks until she calms down and falls asleep.


End file.
